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Writer's Wheel - TSR Short Story Competition

It is 1:53pm. The sky is blue. The sun is shining. Everything is as it should be in Kliven, where the Writer's Wheel is open for business. It hopes to promote creativity, fun and an all inclusive atmosphere by excluding most people, staying stuck on one theme and limiting imagination. A poet, a playwright, a journalist and a romance novelist get on the glorified Ferris wheel and the practically infallible system collapses.

"I, Romance Novelist, will write a story about a cowboy and a hipster who meet and fall in love," Romance Novelist says, wistfully. "Their bodies will collide in a coffee shop and fate will bring them together in glorious union."

A carriage below, Journalist sighs. Poet faints from the strength of the cowboy's and hipster's imaginary love. Playwright grips on to the idea and hopes to plagiarise it. Shakespeare did it all the time, he thinks.

The Writer's Wheel is about to spin when a student gets on, followed by a historical fiction writer and a science-fiction author. The Wheel moves and then stops. Each writer has landed on a genre.

"I'm on top!" cries Playwright.

"Dude, no one needed to know that," Student says.

"I got historical fiction and power?" questions Romance Novelist. "How is that possible? No one in history has ever had power... and a struggle with love! No one will want to publish this!"

Science-Fiction sighs. She once dated Romance Novelist and remembers the dramatic collision of their personalities. Their personalities had collided in a coffee shop.

Whilst Science-Fiction wonders how to combine murder-mystery and power, pandemonium breaks loose around the Wheel. None of the writers know what to do with their given genres. Many of them question what their lives have become and Student wonders why he chose a humanities degree; his mother always told him that there were no jobs out there for Humanities students. Now here he was with no job, stuck on a Wheel with other No Jobs.

"Stop!" Poet cries. "We need to stop! Have we forgotten where we came from? We came from Shakespeare's womb! Milton's womb! Hemingway's womb! We were born to spread creativity, share experiences of different cultures through our writings and encourage free, critical, sceptical and impassioned thought! We were not born to rely on a mere Wheel to grace us with ideas. Romance Novelist and others, do not let your labels define you. I am actually a poet and a playwright and a tennis player. Writing does not set boundaries. Dive into other genres and show Student that life is about more than being jobless. Jump from these flimsy carriages that can barely contain our modest and remarkable minds! Leave this wheel and find creativity. Cross boundaries!"

The writers jump from their carriages. Many fall to their deaths. Romance Novelist and Historical Fiction collide in a tangled mess of limbs and glorious union. Student sustains injuries. Poet is so impassioned that he faints in his carriage.

Everything is as it should be in Kliven.

I've been reading a lot of satire lately, so that influenced this piece. I was having a hard time writing because I felt like I had to write a certain way and got really confused for a while, which is kind of the basis for this story. None of these stereotypes actually represent the writers of these genres.

(edited 8 years ago)

Reply 1

Dohaeris

One of my favourite stories submitted. I'm kinda surprised nobody has commented here yet, but well done!!

(edited 8 years ago)

Reply 2

etherealinsanity

Original post by Dohaeris

One of my favourite stories submitted. I'm kinda surprised nobody has commented here yet, but well done!!

Thank you! :smile:

Reply 3

the bear

very good indeed :colondollar:

Reply 4

etherealinsanity

Original post by the bear

very good indeed :colondollar:

Thank you! :smile:

Reply 5

TheNovellist

I actually like this one better than the winner. You have an open mind, dude, and I totally get what you mean when people ask you, "So what genre and tense and perspective do you write in?" and you feel trapped and writing becomes a burden. Previous writers can inspire, or they can crush originality; I think it's up to modern writers to discern between what comes from their hearts and what is dead literature.